From Trash to Titan
But then, logic clawed its way back into Tristan's panicked mind.
No. That was impossible. He had just read the background check! Maxwell was a disgraced outcast making half a million a year. A man whose own mother had cut him off couldn't even walk into the lobby of the bank that issued a card like that, let alone own a custom titanium one.
The realization hit Tristan, and the panic in his chest instantly flipped into a vicious, desperate triumph. He had almost been fooled.
Tristan let out a loud, barking laugh, pointing a finger directly at the card.